Keith Saunders

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I didn’t care for this game that much. Sure Denver’s D is one for the ages and they were awe-inspiring, but the game had no flow. Peyton Manning was underwhelming and well past his prime. I could have quarterbacked the Broncos to a victory with that defense.

The game was played in Santa Clara and as I was driving over the Bay Bridge on my way to my gig in San Francisco I could see the blimp way in the distance to the south. I was driving during halftime and San Fran was like a ghost town. Least traffic ever.

Cam Newton is taking a beating for walking out of his post game press conference. There had been a huge to-do the week before the game in the press and on social media about Newton’s flashy persona and how it was unprofessional. (Full disclosure, I had to google dabbing) This was an overreaction and had the whiff of racism. There have been plenty of white quarterbacks who celebrate touchdowns, and in the end, who cares?

But with the press conference, I believe Cam had to step up and endure the 10-15 minutes of inane questions. If you’re going to be a gloating-gloater when you succeed then you have to be graceful in defeat as well.

And with that we enter the dark days of sports. For the next two months there is nothing but excruciatingly dull mid-season basketball and hockey. I can’t get excited about pitchers and catchers and spring training. It does nothing for me. I’ll see you all on Sunday, April 3rd.

I feel guilty about my lack of enthusiasm over Sunday’s big game but for whatever reason I just can’t seem to get excited over it. Part of the reason is that I have an early starting solo piano gig that’s going to interfere with me seeing the fourth quarter. Fortunately I have a good line of sight from the piano to the TV but I’m a little farther away than I’d like to be which will make identifying the holding calls tough.

The game is being played in Santa Clara which is 40 miles south of where I live. This is where the 49ers moved two season ago — a corporate designer stadium monstrosity. From all counts Levi’s Stadium has a nightmare parking situation which can take hours to enter and exit. Route 101 is a tough artery to deal with in the best of circumstances but one can only imagine how much worse it will be tomorrow. Throw in the post 9/11 security and you couldn’t pay me enough to attend this game. I’ve heard that there are people who flew in from out of town that aren’t able to go to the game but are going to local Santa Clara bars so that they can be close to the action. I pity these dullards. Stay at home and watch from your couch, for crying out loud. Santa Clara has no ambiance!

All of the Super Bowl festivities, whatever they are, have taken place in San Francisco which has made it tough for the working stiff musician to get into town for his gigs. (I live across the bay in a town just north of Berkeley called Albany) Tonight I’m gigging in North Beach which is a part of San Francisco that is only a 20 minute walk from the a Bart station. Tomorrow, however, I’m working in a part of San Francisco not serviced by Bart so I’ll have to drive. I’m hoping that everyone will already be ensconced at the TV of their choice by the time I have to leave.

I went to Super Bowl XI. It was the Minnesota Vikings 4th quixotic appearance and they played John Madden’s Oakland Raiders at the Rose Bowl. The Vikings had won their division eight out of the past nine years and had been to the big game three times. Each time they were soundly defeated. The Kansas City Chiefs, the Miami Dolphins, and the Pittsburgh Steelers had taken their turns at a Viking smackdown. This was the Raider’s second trip, having lost Superbowl II to the legendary Green Bay Packers.

When we arrived at our seat we found that O.J. Simpson and Franco Harris sat 6 rows above us. Both were still NFL players. Little did we now that O.J. would one day change history, forever altering our perception of freeway chase. Back then he was known as a great running back and pitchman.

Early in the game the Vikings had a chance to draw first blood when they blocked a Ray Guy punt, recovering it at the Raiders 3 yard line. They proceeded to fumble the ball right back to the Raiders and shortly thereafter the rout was on. Fred Biletnikoff caught three touchdown passes and the Raiders rolled to a 32-7 win.

We had parked at the house of the district attorney of Los Angeles — a friend of my Uncle’s — two blocks from the Rose Bowl. After the game we discovered that we had been parked in by a Chevy Nova and my crazy cousin, never one excercise patience, became so upset that he keyed the guys car. He was like a caged animal and we stared in rank amazement as he vandalized a strangers car.

That was the first and only Superbowl I went to. There was no rock-star halftime show, no full body cavity search upon entering the arena, and no MVP prattling on about Disneyland in the post-game interview. Just a bunch of crazed, over-sized freaks playing a kid’s game without even the aid of an instant replay booth review.

I watched Super Bowl XII — Cowboys vs Broncos — with my Dad and my then-girlfriend, Lauri, who surprised us by knowing an unusually large amount about veteran quarterback Craig Morton. That game featured Denver’s “Orange Crush” defense vs Dallas’ “Doomsday” defense. Dallas won in a rout: 27-10.

In 1980 I had a gig with the great drummer, Roy McCurdy, at a jazz club in Malibu — Pasquale’s — and the band watched the game in the bass players apartment above the club. The Steelers were playing in their 4th Super Bowl and this was the L.A. Rams only Super Bowl. (As the St. Louis Rams thy played in two more in the 90s.) The Rams acquitted themselves well and were actually winning to start the 4th quarter when Terry Bradshaw and receiver John Stallworth took over the game. Final: 31-19 Steelers.

Five years later I would watch Super Bowl XIX — 49ers vs Dolphins — with saxophonist Richie Cole on Widby Island, which is off the coast of Seattle in Washington State. We were on tour and were off that night. Friends of Richie’s had a place and agreed to put us up so we took a short ferry ride to the island and watched Dan Marino’s only ever Super Bowl performance. Another rout. Final: 38-16 49ers.

In 1987 the Redskins played the Broncos in Super Bowl XXII and I was a 27 year old young buck full of piss and vinegar ready to watch some football with my Aunt and Uncle. My best friend Jeff and I agreed to pick up some food from the 2nd Ave Deli. We got a late start and the deli was packed with like-minded fans so we ended up missing most of the 1st Quarter.

When we arrived in Brooklyn the Broncos had jumped out to a 10-0 lead and we worried that the game might be a blowout. As it turned out we were right. It was the Redskins, however that destroyed the Broncos. QB Doug Williams went off in the 2nd quarter completing 9 of 11 passes for 228 yards and 4 touchdowns. Final: 42-10 Redskins.

Final food consumed: 4 corn beef sandwiches on rye, 2 pastrami, 8 pickles, and a hell of a lot of kasha.

I went to Super Bowl XI. It was the Minnesota Vikings 4th quixotic appearance and they played John Madden’s Oakland Raiders at the Rose Bowl. We parked at the house of a friend of my Uncle’s, two blocks from the Rose Bowl. O.J. Simpson and Franco Harris sat 6 rows above us.

After the game we discovered that we were parked in and my crazy cousin Roger became so upset that he keyed the guys car. This Super Bowl memory was brought to you by ALCOA.